


the fire's cold but the rage burns

by okeli



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Death and loss, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okeli/pseuds/okeli
Summary: (Ending A - but I'm up Trevor's ass so there's a twist.)Trevor had imagined pulling off a heist with millions of dollars worth of gold would be more than enough to unite and bond people for life, but boy had he been wrong. His own people, the ones he'd considered his family wanted to watch him burn, wanted to strip him of everything and leave him for dead, because Steve fuckin' Haines of all people wanted him gone, and Michael De fuckin' Santa of all people wanted to oversee it. It was unbelievable.But, he supposes death isn't so bad, especially with a terrifying reputation that would've outlived him anyway, and millions of dollars he'd threatened Lester into wiring to his account no matter what. Ron would do with it what he wanted, and Trevor could rest in peace. Saved him the trouble of having to seek revenge too.Except they must have really sucked at burning him alive because he wakes up a little more than a week later with a pistol to his head, with a woman he doesn't recognize in yet another life threatening situation and Trevor really finds himself wishing he'd been crisp meat.Those stupid motherfuckers.
Relationships: Franklin Clinton/Trevor Philips, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips, Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s), Trevor Philips/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 62





	1. Something sensible, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi hi, I have been planning this for quite a while now and I really wanted to explore the deep, troubled angst that is Trevor Philips, so enjoy! I definitely did not pick Option A, but I was curious about how Trevor would handle it if he'd gotten away in time and/or saved himself, so this was born.
> 
> Always choose C, folks, the song at the end rocks too. :D

Franklin knew the second he’d made his choice that he would absolutely _not_ follow through. Sure, Trevor was a crazy motherfucker, beyond unhinged and pretty much always a ten percent liability, but he was loyal. Despite his short temper and general, poor impulse, he had never voluntarily endangered Franklin and had gone lengths to forgive Michael. Shit, sure, it doesn’t seem like a lot but coming from Trevor, it sure fuckin was. 

In a strange, fucked up way, if Michael had doubts, Franklin was sure he’d be set on his decision. But it’s Michael’s lack of hesitance and immediate agreement that makes Franklin second guess himself and whether he’d made the right choice. Michael had always been wary, but to agree so quickly to ice his best friend? Had they had any camaraderie at all? If it had been on Michael to take one of ‘em out, would he have hesitated if he’d chosen Franklin? 

He groans, attempting to shake the thoughts of his head as he dials Lamar, choosing to take a swig out of the whiskey bottle as he waits. This is absolutely insane, he knows. Double-crossing Michael? Was it even worth it? 

“What’s goin’ on, fool? What’d you fuck up this time?” 

“Ay man, I’m in some deep shit. I’ve got the FIB on my ass about icin’ Trevor and Dave fuckin’ Weston on my ass about icin’ Michael. We can’t get all of ‘em, so I thought you know, Trevor makes sense.” 

“Shit homie, you goin’ after that crazy mo’fucker? Ain’t he been the most loyal to y’all and yo’ lil family?” 

“I mean sure, dog, but Michael ain’t an option. He done too much for me, for _us_. But listen, I ain’t set on Trevor either. I was thinkin’, maybe I give him a chance. A fair run to get the fuck out, or I miss or somethin’. I don’t know, dog, I really don’t fuckin’ know.” 

Lamar’s chuckles irritate Franklin, but he chooses not to comment. “I think you do know, Frank. You ain’t creepin’ on Trevor, and you sure as hell ain’t creepin’ on Mike. Save ‘em both, fool.” 

“Now that makes zero fucking sense,” Franklin groans, “we’ll be dealing with the FIB, all the fuckers suckin’ Weston’s dick—them Merryweather folks—and don’t forget, we got the Ballas on our ass cause of yo’ dumbass. We ain’t stocked enough to handle all of ‘em.” 

“A’ight shit, was just throwin’ it out there. Look, I might be able to get you outta this shithole. I know a friend, I’ma put y’all on and you see what she can do about saving Trevor.” 

“ _She_?” 

“Yes, fool, _she_. What, you suddenly turnin’ all sexist and traditional?” 

“No, man I’m just surprised that you—”

Lamar’s laughing now, sounding very amused as he says, “You are full of fuckin’ surprises Frank. I sent you the details. Lemme know if you need your back covered, homie. Bye now.” 

Softly cussing out Lamar to himself, Franklin rushes to check the contact info his friend had sent through, eyeing the name with keen interest. 

_Kali Whitman_

He sighs. He could give Trevor a warning, or talk Michael out of it. Maybe they could work together, get all of the people after them at once? Three against god knows how many, it could work, right? 

_No fuckin’ way_. 

Franklin doubts Michael will be feeling any hesitance this deep into the game, so he takes a deep breath and taps on the contact bubble, opting to dial the number. It rings thrice before a confused voice answers. “Hello, who is this?” 

“Uh, this is Franklin Clinton, I’m a friend of Lamar’s? He said you’re the go-to for some tricky situations.” 

“Hi Franklin,” comes the reply, “I don’t think it’s safe to be discussing this over the phone. Can you meet me?” 

“Yeah, ‘course. You wanna come down to the Burger Shot a little away from Vinewood Hills? I can meet you there in about ten minutes.” 

There’s a momentary pause and Franklin feels all the trepidation coiling around his chest, rendering it difficult to breathe. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”


	2. This definitely isn't sensible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending A but both Franklin and Michael are half-assing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> driving force of the story, here we gooooooo

Michael has never been more torn in his life. He can’t stop the flashbacks as they come in a painful flurry, remembering each endearing memory of Trevor every time he shuts his eyes and grips the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he waits for Franklin’s signal. 

He thinks of when he had to hide out at Trevor’s with Patricia Madrazzo and how incredibly annoyed he’d been at Trevor’s impulsiveness and how much he’d hated that Trevor had been so taken with Patricia. It was just _so_ typical of him to not give a fuck about the rules and boundaries, to act on what he felt and letting the logic and reasoning follow in as part of the consequence. 

He finds himself smiling however, when he recalls robbing Merryweather _again_ and having wrestled with Trevor for the gold piece, both cussing each other out like petulant children over a sole bar of candy. He remembers the drive to Paleto Bay, where he’d teased him relentlessly about being the caricature of a hipster, secretly enjoying have riled him up so quickly. Trevor’s defensiveness often led to a lot of dropping bodies, but Michael has found himself to be able to push the limit, receiving only empty threats in response. He finds that funny, because Trevor did also leave him for fucking dead with the Triad. 

So he deserves this, right? For leaving Michael to quip back at all the gay jokes alone? This is payback for abandoning him, right?

But Trevor had a valid reason to. If the roles were swapped, Michael would’ve clipped Trevor at the graveyard in a fit of rage for the lies and betrayal. He knows that, he’s got no one but himself to blame for how untrusting Trevor was of him. And now here he is, off to murder him because Steve goddamn Haines, the fucking asshole, cornered Franklin. 

So shouldn’t he let Franklin handle it? Keep his loyalty to Trevor, as a last act of respect? 

Groaning, Michael bangs his head against the steering, chuckling angrily to himself when the car horn sounds. He wants to scream. He wants to turn his conscious off. He hates himself enough already. God, he needs a cigarette. 

Screw Trevor for talking him into quitting. 

Jesus, this was nerve wracking. He’d put up such a front for Franklin, insisting that it had to be Trevor because he sure as hell didn’t want to die, that it was the most sensible option and Trevor had nothing to lose, no one who loved him enough to miss him. 

_You would_ , his conscience sneers, _you’d be stuck in this miserable existence knowing you had a hand in the murder of the only person who gave a fuck about you for you, even when you were an absolute shithead._

“Fuck’s sake Franklin,” Michael mutters, “what the hell is taking so long?” 

Almost as if on cue, his phone rings, Franklin’s name flashing on the illuminated screen. Michael scrambles to steady his voice as he answers. “Yeah, Frank?” 

“I need your help!” Franklin shouts. “He’s getting away man, we’re heading back to El Burro, I need you to cut him off now or we gonna lose him!” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Michael panics, hurriedly starting his car, slamming his foot on the accelerator as he speeds towards the highway, “I’m entering the highway now, I’ll be there soon. Stay on him, Frank.” 

Franklin does not have the time to dwell on how he feels little to no remorse lying to Michael. He doesn’t need Michael’s help. Trevor is still in sight, still very much within range. But he needs Michael to play his hand, needs him to feel involved enough to believe something could’ve gone wrong and Trevor survived. 

He dials Kali as soon as he hangs up with Michael. 

“Yep, Frank, I’m in position. I see him approaching the hills. I got this. Remember, only aim for one of the back tires. He _cannot_ reach the Burro again. He will not survive if he does, you hear me?” 

“Yeah, K, I gotchu. Just keep Mike away. Not a hair on his head!” Franklin tosses his phone aside and focuses on adjusting his speed, swerving in and out of the lanes to avoid busy cars as he shifts right behind Trevor. The wind is whipping through so strong he’s not sure Trevor can hear him, but he calls out to him anyway. 

“Ay, man, it had to be one of you! Mike’s got a family!” 

He can hear angry grumbles, but he only really catches the “fuck off!” as he tailgates the older man, only narrowly avoiding slamming right into the back of his Bodhi. Franklin knows it’s only a matter of minutes before they enter the Burro again. He feels it again, the trepidation, a tight, hot coil around his lungs, making him gasp as he begins to slow, just enough to get the Bodhi’s back tires in range. His throat goes dry as he sticks his gun out of the window, arm straining to aim right at the tire, and begins to fire. 

He hears Trevor scream and a loud _whoosh_ as the bullets pierce the tire to the left, immediately off-roading the truck as it hurtles down the hill. Franklin finds himself screaming out for Trevor, bringing his car to a sudden stop to the side as he stumbles out, shock so strong he sees the world slow down. He can see the bright red of the truck’s rear as it crashes, hating so much that he cannot confirm if Trevor did the smart thing and leaped out. He wants to run over, to check, fuck, to apologize, but he can’t. This was as much of a chance as he could give him. 

Or at least that’s what he’ll tell himself. 

He dials Kali again, frowning when she doesn’t answer. With shaking hands, he hits “call” once more, placing a hand down on the hood of his car to steady himself. 

“Frank, hey, can’t talk right now I’m getting the fuck away from our friend Mike here. Why didn’t you mention he’d start chasing me back?” 

“Shit K, man I’m sorry I—I didn’t consider,” he heaves, “didn’t consider Mike being a crazy motherfucker too. I’ll tell him it’s done so he backs off. I’m dropping you the location so you can see if T’s good or not.” 

“Alright, I’ll head there as soon as I get it.” 

“Hey, K?” 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t wanna know what happens. Just let me assume he’s gone, yeah? I don’t wanna think about this no more.” 

“Frank, I really don’t think—FUCK! You piece of shit! Okay, we can talk about this later, call this son of a bitch off now or I’m going to kill him!” 

Shaking his head, Franklin ends the call and reaches out to Michael. 

“Hey, let me get back to you, I’m trying to see who the asshole who nearly ran me off the road is, this slippery little bastard—”

“Mike, dog, fall back.” 

“What?” 

“I said,” Franklin inhales sharply, “fall the fuck back. It’s done. We’re cool, man. We good.” 

“So T, he’s—he’s really—you mean to say—”

“Yeah. Head back home, Mike. Be with your family. You done this for them after all. And ay, I think we should lay low for a while. Take a break. I need some space, dog, I don’t know when I’ll be in touch again.” 

“Listen, F—”

“That was yo’ best fuckin’ friend, dog. And you know what, maybe mine too. I need this. You do too. See you when I do, Mike.” Without giving Michael a chance to finish, Franklin hangs up, trying to swallow down the guilt he feels as he gets into his car again, gripping the steering wheel tight as he enters the busy road, driving away while resisting the painful urge to look back. 

_There’s nothing to look back for._

And yet, as he pins the location for Kali, Franklin can’t help but turn his head and glance over,apologizing to his friend silently. As his phone dings with an acknowledgment from the woman, Franklin is hit with a realization that makes his vision go blurry. 

Trevor had killed men with his bare hands before. He could’ve easily taken Franklin and prepared himself to take Michael. He could’ve very easily turned the tide. 

But he didn’t. 

Even when they’d threatened his life, Trevor chose not to retaliate. 

This definitely wasn’t fucking sensible at all. 


	3. Dark waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in a 4pm haze of kebabs and iced coffee so pls forgive if there are any mistakes, i'll correct them asap! :D

Kali is at her wit’s end with this elusive asshole. 

Over the course of the week, she had tried Franklin about a couple hundred times but to no avail. Lamar is just as puzzled, finding himself unable to reach Franklin at all. No word from their mutual associates and when Lamar had turned up at his house, it was empty. No Chop, his adorable Rottweiler and definitely no Franklin. When she’d then been directed to Lester Crest and asked him for help, Lester had managed to, in seconds, let her know that his cellphone was off, so there were no pings for him to track. It was such a quick process that he’d _refused_ to take her money. 

Which left her with a six-foot, terrifying, unconscious man deep in a medically-induced coma at her safe house with no way to contact anyone who might be able to care for him. She gazes at him again, takes in the bandages around his head, the cast on his neck, the bandages around his limbs and wonders for the nth time that day, why the hell this man stayed in the vehicle when he’d had ample opportunity to leap out with minimal damage. 

Instead, his ass had ended up just out of death’s grip with a goddamn epidural hematoma, the bleeding being so severe she’d had to pull in almost all of her favours to have him treated, no questions asked. When his condition had stabilized and he’d been given the all-clear, Kali, having been unable to contact anyone, took him home—well, at least the home she used for jobs like these. “It might take him a while, given his age and intensity of trauma sustained,” Alissa had said, shrugging, “it’s important to keep him dripped until then. I’ve heard medically-induced comas can be a psychological horror rollercoaster for some patients and that’s your specialty.” She’d grinned, patting Kali on the back as she spoke. “Besides, he’s got kind of an old man hotness to him, don’t you think?” 

“Alissa, you freak,” Kali rounded on her friend incredulously, “he’s in a coma!” 

“I’ve seen his brain, baby doll,” her friend laughed, “I think that’s personal enough.” 

“She’s a real weirdo, that one,” Kali speaks to a sleeping Trevor, “but I love her to death. She saved your life, by the way. And considering that was a large fucking favor I pulled, I’d _really_ like to know why the hell you stayed in that truck.” 

When there’s, predictably, no response, Kali sighs. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and your friends there—if they’re even your friends—but you’ve gotta wake up so I can help you sort this shit out, man. Franklin’s practically a ghost and I was told to not reach out to the other asshole, Michael, under any circumstance. Your creepy friend, Lester asked if I knew where you were,” Kali grips the edge of the bed in frustration, “and I had no fuckin’ idea what to say. All I was told was to see what your situation ended up being and act accordingly.” 

More silence.

“If what Alissa said is true, about the psychological horror-coaster, then I think I can guess why you didn’t jump out of that truck,” she chuckles softly, “whatever you’re battling right now can’t be easy huh, bud? It’s okay. You’ve got me for now.” 

She taps his hand, pausing just for a second to read the tattoo just above his knuckles. She’d seen it before, one says “Fuck” and the other says “You”. She’d snorted at the try-hard edginess of it all, but now she’s curious. She’s got so many questions, the tattoos being quite low on the ever-growing list. With a final glance at the poor sucker, Kali rises from her seat and makes her way out of the room, pausing only briefly to say, “I hope to meet you soon, Trevor Philips.” 

Trevor hears that in the never-ending void he’s trapped in, but he absolutely cannot chase it back to the source. He feels like he’s been here for years, running around aimlessly, calling out for someone— _anyone_ to pull him out. He’s seen his mother, stalking towards him in the way she does when she’s about to let him hear it, he’s seen his brother, a silent figure in the shadows, saying nothing but always following, he’s seen Brad, the hollow, sunken face of Brad’s rotting corpse as it asks him _why_ and all he can say is “I don’t know, fuck, I’m sorry!” 

All throughout his life, Trevor’s found one path the easiest to take—the one to rage and power. He knows no limits when he’s angry, cares absolutely none for boundaries. It feels superhuman almost, when everything slows and he’s unstoppable, seeing the blood splatter and hearing the muffled screams, he’s unbeatable. Nothing can touch him when he’s pissed. He’s feared. He’s so feared he’s respected. Untouchable. Alone. 

_Alone_. 

All the rage, all the murderous rampages, all the meth and alcohol couldn’t ease the loneliness, the hollowness in him he’d carried his entire life. It’s why he takes that path over and over, when he’s confused, when he’s hurt, when he’s belittled, when he’s wrong, even. It can’t ease it, nor can it fix him, but he loves feeling invincible. It’s when he’s got people trembling before him, begging for mercy that he feels he doesn’t need to run anymore, that he’s in control, that nothing can hurt him and he makes his own fucking destiny. 

But right here, in this void, there’s no power. No rage to save him, even momentarily. Trevor’s fighting all his demons with no advantage. He sees Franklin in his car, racing toward him and Trevor screams, pleads for him to stop because he’s not in his truck, he’s sorry for whatever he did, Trevor pleads with Franklin to stop because he doesn’t want to die. 

But he doesn’t.

It’s as he braces himself for impact that he hears her voice again, taunting, drifting close to his ear then far away. With a hollow, eerie vibrato his mother sings, “Worthless, useless boy, worthless, useless boy, so alone, forever alone." 

He’s crying. His chest hurts, and close again she is, singing it over and over. He hears car horns and someone screaming his name, the distant, frantic beeping of a heart monitor as the sounds echo around him. He curls into himself, sobbing, pleading for it to stop, pleading for someone to pull him out. 

But no one does. 

“You’re psychotic,” Michael sneers, but Trevor doesn’t dare to look up, “you’re not the marrying type!”

“You’ve always loved gasoline, Trevor.” 

“I’m sorry Mr. Philips, but you are unfit for active duty, I cannot clear you for Air Force—”

“Worthless, useless boy, so alone, forever alone…” 

“TREVOR!” The woman’s voice is back, louder than the echoes, louder than the ringing in his ears. “Trevor, goddamnit, listen to me. Focus on my voice. Listen to me.” 

He tries. He clings to it, still not daring to look up, clings to the gentleness in her tone, the desperation to ground him as the beeping still sounds in the distance. 

“I’ve got you,” she says, loud and clear, “I’ve got you. I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.” 

And he repeats that to himself, memorizes the way she says it, he holds it so close he can almost imagine silence. Eventually, it comes.

But the void hasn’t left. He’s still alone. 

At least it’s silent. 


	4. Who the fuck shaved my head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me forever to get this done, but the story's picking up the pace now! enjoy! :D

Michael is one more interruption away from punching Dr. Friedlander right in the face. 

He scowls at the sheepish looking man in front of him, debating in the few moments of silence whether or not to speak his mind. On one hand, this is the only outlet he’s got to vent, even though it’s not perfect. Franklin’s a ghost and his family had only just reunited, he couldn’t afford to bring his “shady business” (as they called it) to them. On the other, for someone whose job was to _listen_ , Dr. Friedlander sure loved cutting him off and doubling the price for ridiculous reasons. 

His best friend’s dead and he can’t fucking talk about it. 

“Earth to Michael? Gotta scram, bud, I’ve got another patient in ten minutes. I’ll expect the transaction to be completed by tonight!”   


Screw it. 

Michael advances slowly, eyeing the now fearful man as he speaks. “You know what, doctor,” his voice is smooth, but he’s sure the threat isn’t missed, “I think you and I need to have a little chat about your, er, _practices_.” 

Friedlander gulps, refusing to meet Michael’s eyes even though he’s right up in his face, posture stiff, stance loose as though he could pounce at any moment. His hands are clenched into fists and the doctor hasn’t forgotten that Michael doesn’t ever feel safe unless he carries. 

He’s kind of, well, _fucked_. 

“I’m sorry to hear you’re unhappy Michael,” comes the choked response, “I—er, I would like to fix that. Tell you what, for, for this session we’ll uh, we’ll waive the bills alright? How about it, hm?” 

“That sounds about right.” Michael grins, eyes cold as he takes a step back. “I’ve been in sessions for months and I’m not any fucking better. And you know, I thought, hey maybe I’m a piece of shit and old habits die hard, so I’m beyond repair. But then I also remember, our sessions are supposed to be an hour. And yet, doctor Friedlander, I’m out within twenty minutes and my bank account’s draining even faster.” 

The air is so palpable with tension and all his degrees prove to be futile when it comes to practice. Isiah has no idea how to diffuse the situation. He knows Michael has hit the nail on the head. It was just _so_ easy with Los Santos clientele, they paid him far too much for consolations they could easily find through a quick search online. He’d written off Michael as one of them, even though the signs had always suggested differently. Had he really focused, he could’ve told Michael about the trauma looming over his head, how he chases after ‘old habits’ because he’s not one to adapt to change well and he is straight up depressed _but_ it’s not as fatalistic as it sounds. There’s numerous avenues to accepting the person he is and living without the self-antagonistic tendencies, he could even get him in touch with a psychiatrist. And Jesus fucking Christ did him and Amanda need a divorce. 

But the money spoke for itself. And that was that. 

“No response, Isiah? Do I need to pay double for acknowledgement of shitty service?” 

“Look, Michael there’s no need to be hostile, we can figure this out, I—I think we should start over, okay? How’s that sound?” 

There’s the barrel of a 9mm right between his eyes and suddenly he can’t breathe. His body screams for him to run, but it’s too close-range. He’ll be dead before he even makes it to the door. So he opts to plead. 

“Come on, Michael, don’t lash out,” his tone reeks of desperation, “we can work this out! This doesn’t have to end in violence! You—you’ve always said you’re a good person!” 

“Oh, how fuckin’ rich,” Michael drawls, “what did you call that, doc? Gross self-justification and _oh,_ a barrage of denial?” 

“I could be wrong, I mean, it’s not that difficult to get a second opinion, for a certain fee I could refer you to—”

“Enough about the fucking money! God,” he groans, “nothing would give me more satisfaction than putting a bullet in your head, you pompous asshole. Whatever you’ve been using my money for, save some for a plane ticket because if I ever see your face in Los Santos again—”

“I’m—I’m leaving! I swear it, I’m moving!” 

“ _Good_. If you’re lying to me doc, I won’t be as forgiving the next time I see you.” 

“You won’t!” Isiah’s voice is practically a squeal. “You’ll never see me again! A-atleast not in person!” 

Michael lowers his gun and pinches the bridge of his nose at his rising frustration. “I wanna ask what you mean, but I don’t think you’d walk outta here alive if I do. So, I’m going to cut you a deal. You stay the fuck in here until you hear me leave, you got it? You call the cops on me and I swear to god you’re a dead fuckin’ man.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Michael!” 

And with that, Michael storms out, wishing so badly to have given in to his violent instinct. But he can’t. He can’t take more guilt right now. God, he doesn’t even want to think about _why_ exactly he’s letting Isiah live. 

He settles for stealing the motherfucker’s car instead. The weasel’s deep, red Porsche _Cayman_ purrs to life and he can practically hear Friedlander whimpering in protest. But surely, he’d know better than to report it. 

As Michael drives away, he dials Jimmy and tells him to pick up his own car from Friedlander’s, making his son promise not to speak a word to the doctor should he still be around. Jimmy’s confused, but in pure delight of being able to drive his father’s car, agrees with little to no questions. 

Amanda, however, is not as appeased. As they lay in bed that night, he’s hounded with questions, ranging from “why the fuck is Friedlander’s car in our garage?” to “did you kill him? I swear to god Michael, if you hurt him I’m leaving for good!” 

It makes his head spin, and it’s when he softly pleads for her to cut it out that his wife realizes something’s wrong. Michael is different when he’s hurt someone. Distant, cold, silent for days, sometimes even _jovial_ , but never so _broken_. So _defeated_. 

Michael feels no love or comfort in Amanda’s embrace as he falls asleep, but he’s grateful that the bed is a little warmer that night as he dreams about a man who’d deserved better. 

_You can do better than this fat snake alright?_ Trevor had laughed. _This fucker would eat his own kids._

_Like I said,_ Michael had quipped back _, deranged._

_Yeah, and best friend!_

_Heh, exactly._

~ ~ ~ ~ 

In the famous song “Seasons of Love” by RENT, there are five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes in a year. And according to RENT, there are five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear. Which leaves Kali thinking about the six hundred moments that are _not_ so dear. 

And one of them happens to be this one, where she’s straddling an unconscious man as she gently lifts his head to change his bandages. He’s expected to wake any time today, Alissa had confirmed his vitals and brain activity were indicative of a high possibility of consciousness. The crippling anxiety of him waking up to being straddled by someone he doesn’t know makes Kali’s fingers tremble as she tosses the old bandages into the dustbin she’d placed the near bed. She’s straining her left arm, which is currently holding Trevor’s head uncomfortably close to her chest. His neck is still in a cast, so she can’t afford to risk straining it. 

She has no idea how medical professionals move past the suffocating waves of embarrassment as they undress and dress patients, but she figures in their line of work that’s the least of their problems. In her line of work however, it is quite high on the list of problems.   
  
The nervous energy spikes when he grunts slightly as he twitches and she fights the instinctive urge to drop his head and _run_ , staying in place as she waits. 

When there’s no other movement, she wraps the fresh bandages around his head, always being mindful of his neck as she works, fighting back the strange sense of creepiness she feels as she tapes the two ends together and gently rests him again. 

_I’m literally just making sure he heals without an infection_ , she sighs, _I’m not creepy!_

It’s as Kali shuffles to move away that she feels an arm wind around her waist, tightening before she can react and flipping her over, another hand quick to find her throat, squeezing tightly. She gasps as her body stills in shock, only to see that Trevor is barely conscious. His eyes are half-lidded and the words he’s slurring are nonsensical. It’s his instinctive response, she realizes. Then she wonders what the hell this man gets up to to be so wound up and on the defense, even when he’s waking up. His grip begins to loosen and he murmurs something incoherent before plopping right on top of her, causing her to let out an _oof_! at the weight. 

_Well, this is definitively_ worse _._

With all the energy she can muster, Kali forces her right leg out from underneath him and tries to shimmy out as gently as she could manage, cursing softly and knowing for a fact that Alissa would be having an absolute field day had she been here to witness this. When she’s finally free, she exhales sharply, letting out a screech akin to that of a pterodactyl’s as she works on shifting Trevor onto his back again.

It’s when she does this that she sees more subconscious movement. He’d occasionally grab her wrist or clench his fists; every now and then his knee would jerk up, startling her and jerking her away. “You are one restless man,” she huffs exasperatedly, “can’t imagine the kind of energy you have when you’re awake.” 

_Oh wow_ , she quips internally, _now_ that’s _an intriguing game of whodunnit? A serial rapist or Kali Whitman?_

As her expression turns into one of contempt, Kali’s phone rings and she jumps at the excuse to get the _fuck_ out of the room. It’s an unknown number. _Yes!_ She thinks, practically leaping towards her phone. _Please be another job!_

“Hello, who is this?” 

“Is this Kali Whitman?” A hoarse voice questions. 

“Speaking,” she answers, “who is this?” 

“My n-name is Ron Jakowski. I’m uh, I’m an employee of Trevor Philips?” Kali’s eyes widen as she feels the gratitude seep into her chest, a flurry of happy exhales following as she struggles to find the right words to say. 

_Finally!_

“Oh my _god_ Ron, what the hell took you so long?” 

“I’m sorry!” He squeaks. “I thought Trevor was _dead_ , Michael wouldn’t tell me anything—if anything he confirmed it and I, I’m sorry I had to get in touch with a lot of people to find you.” 

Kali feels a tinge of guilt for her response. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about it. I’m as confused as you are. Trevor is alive and well, he’s just er, well, he’s unconscious.” 

“No! What happened to him? Can I see him? Can you bring him here?” 

“Ron, buddy, I’m gonna need you to relax, you’re starting to stress me out, but I cannot express how happy I am that you found me. Trevor was in an accident. I’d love to tell you the details in person, they’re quite puzzling. But I got to him in time. He’s okay, he just needs some time to recover.” 

“Can I visit him?” 

“I’d rather bring him to you,” Kali bites her lip hesitantly, “I’m sorry, but I’d prefer to keep this location discreet.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” Ron breathes, “oh of course! I understand, erm, I’ll just tell you where I guess. Depends on how you’re getting here.” 

“I’ve got a chopper.”

Kali assumes it’s a stunned silence when Ron doesn’t speak for a couple of seconds. When he does, he’s stammering even more than usual. “That’s, that’s perfect! We own a hangar here, so you’ve got the all-clear to drop down. It’s the Sandy Shores Hangar, you familiar with it?” 

“Yep, I know the one. Alright, I’ll make the arrangements and stay in touch to let you know when I’ll be coming in, yeah? Thanks for reaching out, Ron. I’ve been lost this whole week on what to do with Trevor, so it’s a relief to hear from someone who cares for him.” 

Kali does not at all expect Ron to start bawling. 

“Thank—thank you for saving him I—I’m so glad he’s alive I, I couldn’t imagine,” he sniffles, “couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him. He’s my best friend. He’s all I’ve got! I haven’t been able to sleep since he went missing and you know what maybe it’s withdrawal or something but I know what I feel! I’m so happy he’s okay, Miss Whitman thank you for saving my best friend.” 

_Jesus Christ_ , she thinks, _there’s a lot to unpack there, but it’s a relief to know someone can account for him._

“Hey, uh, don’t sweat it. You’ll be seeing him soon!” And even though she feels terrible hanging up on a crying man, she cannot wait for her part in this to be over. So she dials Alissa, elated to share the good news with the only other person she can discuss this with. 

“How’re you doing, my cute little minx?” 

“Someone got in touch with me! About Trevor! I can have him dropped off tomorrow and forget all about this mess!” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there K, lots of factors to consider before you just flat out dump that hot piece and move on. Firstly, it’d be beyond irresponsible of you to leave him in the hands of this stranger without confirming a proper relationship between the two. Second, considering the severity of the damage, you’ll need to stick around for a while to see if he’s functioning as normal. I found traces of methamphetamine in his blood, so he needs to be monitored. I sure as hell can’t leave Liberty City to look after him even though,” she pauses to whistle suggestively, “I would be absolutely delighted to.” 

“Ew, Liz, you gotta cool it,” Kali winces at her friend’s brashness, “he’s like fifty.” 

“Okay, and? You’re saying he’s not attractive at all?” 

“I’m not looking at him that way! Look, can you just continue bursting my bubble and give me an estimate of how long I’ll be staying with him?” 

“Can’t do, sweetie,” Alissa tuts, “you’re going to have to keep updating me and wait until I give you the green light.” 

“You’re kidding,” Kali groans, “please tell me you’re kidding.” 

“I would hate to do that. This is the most interesting thing to happen in my life so far, and I am so happy it involves me doing my job. Before you ask, _yes_ , he’s clear for flights as long as he’s not piloting one. Let me know when you land! Love you!” 

Kali’s grumbling is completely missed by Alissa, who’s already hung up. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, desperately just wanting to be free of this man and the bizarre case around his life. As she makes her way back to the room, Kali tries to call Franklin again, just for the heck of it. He owed her an explanation, because she sure as hell can’t understand how he’s managed to wire the money into her account but miss all of her calls. 

It’s a shame Trevor chooses to lunge at her at this very moment, because Kali drops her phone and grabs the .45 she always has stuffed into the back of her jeans, having it right between the smirking man’s eyes, completely missing the fact that the call had gone through and an anxious Franklin is waiting for her to say something on the other end. 

And it’s even more of a shame that Franklin hangs up promptly after, because he _just_ misses Trevor saying, “Well, you’re quite a feisty one, arentcha?” 

“ _Down_ , boy,” Kali warns, her grip on the handgun firm as she scowls at Trevor, “I think you need to give me a chance to explain.” 

Raising both his arms in defeat, Trevor lowers himself onto the bed again, expression still amused as he places his hands on either side of him. Kali hesitates, but eventually lowers her gun, stuffing it back into her jeans as she takes in the sight of him. 

He looks a lot more docile when he’s asleep. This probably isn’t even him at optimal strength and yet the intimidation is oozing off of him waves, his face permanently etched into a scowl. However—and god does she hate that this is running through her head—she finally sees what Alissa’s been on about. There _is_ indeed an old man hotness to Trevor and Kali absolutely despises that she’s feeling it. He sits with ease and confidence, despite just having a gun to his head; his eyes betray nothing. If she didn’t know any better, Kali would’ve never guessed that this man had been in critical condition just about a week ago. Even with his bandages, he looks unbeatable. 

“You done checking me out there, sweetheart?” 

As if to refute him, she clears her throat obnoxiously loud. “Right. Okay, firstly, please don’t make sudden movements like that again. I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re not really in the most optimal shape to be engaging in active combat.” 

Trevor takes this moment to tilt his head slightly, only to wince. He feels the beginnings of a headache and runs a hand through his hair, only to feel the most peculiar thing. 

_There’s no hair._

“Who the _fuck_ ,” he growls, tapping his head in agitation, “shaved my head?” 

Utterly baffled at his immediate concern, Kali regards him incredulously. “Are you serious? You had internal bleeding! There was no choice, it was a matter of life and death!” 

He winces slightly at that, shutting his eyes tightly as he hears the car horns again, seeing flashes of red right before he fixes his gaze on the woman in front of him. “I can forgive that I guess,” he grumbles, “as long as you didn’t shave me everywhere else.” 

Kali snorts. “Trust me, you’re good.” 

“Who are you anyway? This some kinda make-a-wish thing for adults? Cause I must say,” he grins as he winks at her, “they hit the nail right on the head.” 

It’s the most humiliating struggle to hide how flustered she feels, but she manages. “ _No_ ,” she answers hotly, “no it is not. In fact, it’s a bit of a clusterfuck. My name is Kali Whitman. I—I was told to confirm what your predicament ended up being and I was given no further instructions after that. I saw you were badly hurt and in critical condition, so I hauled you outta there and had you treated.” 

It begins to come back to him, the air of unease when he’d first met up with Franklin, his suspicions being confirmed when Franklin draws a gun. The chase, hearing the air go out of his tires and the sound of screeching metal as he hears Franklin screaming after him. The smell of blood and the metallic tang as it fills his mouth, and the fire of pain crawling up his leg as he chooses to stay inside the Bodhi, resigning himself to his fate. 

And there’s that feeling again, the hollowness in his chest. Kali notices Trevor’s smile drop as he lowers his head, saying nothing for a moment. Then, he looks up at her and says, “You should’ve left me there.” 

“I—what?” 

“You shoulda left me to die.” 

“Oh come on,” Kali throws her hands up in frustration, “I go through hell to save you only to find out you _wanted_ to die? What the hell is going on with you three?” 

“That fat snake,” Trevor barks out a laugh, “he was there too? He saw it too?” 

“No. I was tasked with running him off the road to make sure he didn’t.” 

Trevor frowns at this. “Wait, what the fuck? Who put you in charge of saving me?” Kali is unsure of whether or not to answer truthfully. On one hand, she has no idea how he’s going to react and could possibly be endangering herself. On the other, she’s tried to reach Franklin almost desperately for further instructions, only to hear nothing from him. Screw it, she’s going with her gut. 

“Franklin Clinton? He told me to see what ended up of you and act accordingly. And I did.” 

And he’s running down that path again, from surprise to confusion to anger, gritting his teeth as his fists clench tightly. “He shoots my tire, _destroys_ my truck but gives you the fuckin’ chance to save me? What the _fuck_ does this kid think he’s doing? What the hell is he playing at? Some kind of sick joke? He’s sitting in his Vinewood mansion, having a fucking _cackle_? I’m going to eat that son of a bitch alive!” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kali steps forward to grip Trevor by the shoulders, stopping him just in time as he attempts to rise quickly, “you forget the first rule already? No sudden movements, or you’re going to fuck up your neck beyond repair.” 

She steps back once she’s sure he won’t move and then says, “Look, I understand as much of this situation as you do, but I can’t have you running off in a murderous rampage and end up hurt. You need to lay low for a while and recuperate. I’m in charge of that.” 

Trevor chuckles sarcastically at that. “Appreciate the enthusiasm darlin’, but I’m alright. I just need to knock back a couple of beers, take a good ol’ whiff of some _gasolina_ and I’ll be sorted.” 

“There were traces of methamphetamine in your blood, so that was a big red flag in itself. You’ve just given me two more. Listen, I could give less of a fuck about the money. I pulled in a favour from a friend to treat you, and she busted her ass to make sure you survived. I am _not_ going to let you blow it, you hear me?”

He says nothing, only smiles at her in amusement. There’s something unsettling about it, Kali isn’t sure what it is, but it irks her fight or flight response. It feels like he could lunge at any moment, but she’s not sure she’s done anything to provoke him. I mean, if you’re getting offended at someone looking after your well-being, then you must be truly fucked in the head. 

_Little too soon for that joke, no_? 

“Besides, I have some good news. Your frie—well, er, employee Ron Jakowski reached out to me. He’s given me the all-clear to take you back to Sandy Shores. I just need to make some arrangements and then by tomorrow night, we’ll be on our way to your hangar.” 

“Ooh, we’re flyin’? Did cheeky ol’ Ronald mention I can?” 

“Hah,” Kali points a finger at him to say _don’t even think about it_ , “you’re not going anywhere near the controls on that chopper, mister. _I’m_ the pilot. I’ll be taking us there. We’ll leave around midnight to keep us from drawing too much attention. I own hangars in Los Santos and Fort Zancudo, so we won’t be facing too much trouble otherwise.” 

Trevor looks almost impressed. “You fly?” 

“Yessir,” she salutes, “was a Master Sergeant for the Air Force back in ’09. Some wild years of my life, for a good while anyway.” 

Now he’s _really_ impressed. “Well ma’am, I thank you for your service.” 

She laughs. “You’re very welcome. You fly too?” 

“Yes ma’am,” and it’s a genuine smile on him this time, “passed all Air Force training with flying colours, just never made it to the front lines.” 

Kali’s got enough experience with friends from the military to know better than to question him further. Whatever it was, he’d tell her if he wanted to, and that was that. She’s got her own reasons for her abrupt exit from the Air Force anyway, not that she’s trying to have anyone guessing. 

She opts to lighten the mood instead. “Well, considering you’ve got your own hangar, I’m expecting my own flight out as a thank-you someday.” She smiles warmly at him, and Trevor hates how quickly his brain yells _I love you! Be mine!_

He forcefully shushes himself internally and winks back at her in response. “I’d love to, darlin’. Got some real beautiful places I can take ya to. You’ll be paid back in full.” 

“Good. Get some rest now, I’ll brief you in the morning. Sorry for the .45 to the head by the way.” 

“All’s forgiven, beautiful,” he grins, “I’ve got that effect on people. I understand.” 

She scoffs as she leaves, and for a moment he’s distracted by how easily they entered a groove of their own, amusing himself with how immediately the flirtatious undercurrents rolled. He really needed to get ahold of himself. 

And he definitely hasn’t forgotten about Franklin. The hot little brunette’s got some logical points for now, but sooner or later, he’s going to set that little shit’s house on fire and cook his dog for barbecue. It was a sad obligation, but it was a mistake on Franklin’s end to have given him a chance to survive. 

Michael, he’d take his time with. Flank him, take away everything he loves from him and then destroy him once and for all. It’s a pity Trevor didn’t shoot the fucker in Ludendorff, but he’d never hesitate again. They’ve shown him they wouldn’t. 

Best friends be damned, they started this war, and he was going to make sure he’d end it. 

____________

_**Reference photo for the Seasons of Love joke lmaooo:** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> figured i should say this now: no Chop(s) were and will ever be harmed during this story. can't promise the same for franklin or michael. :D
> 
> i would like to add that bald trevor is so mf hot and no one can change my mind. absolutely no one. he just is. powerfully sexy. that is all.


	5. Sandy Shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! i just wanted to take a moment to say how much i appreciate the love and support you've been showing the story <3 i feel like this chapter is so mediocre but it fills you in a little more on mikey and frank :D 
> 
> apologies for the really slow update, i have been thru mental turmoils and a half and it's been a bit of a struggle to write consistently, but i draw a lot from your feedback and support, so really, thank you so much again! <3333

Ron’s sudden radio silence and disappearance delays the flight out to Sandy Shores by two whole weeks, which is around when Kali realizes she shouldn’t have ever apologized for the .45 to the head, because she’s had to threaten Trevor at gun point numerous times to stay put and quit attempting to sneak out.

Not only did she find it incredibly insulting to the authority she naturally held as his current caretaker, she also knew he’d head straight for the hangar and the thought of him flying her chopper without her makes her want to shoot him right in the head. It’s genuinely ridiculous how little regard Trevor has for his own safety, much less hers.

She despises the thought but she realizes she has to take the risk and fly them out to Sandy Shores at some point, especially because Trevor’s unease comes from not knowing if Ron is okay—much more if his business is okay. So, she plans for a nighttime departure, choosing to arm herself according to the kind of danger she expects them to run into.

The nature of Trevor’s accident is very ambiguous, but Kali knows the FIB will have to be discreet with confirming he’s gone, so there’s little chance of them landing to an endless hoard of armed agents. Arguably, undercover agents pose more of a threat. She doesn’t know who’s watching or waiting for them back at the county. Upon relaying this to Trevor, she finds he couldn’t care less, in fact he’s eager to get ahold of her armory and take down anyone suspicious within sight.

“For the last time,” she sighs exasperatedly, “these guns are _mine_. You are not shooting or going on the offense. We are going to land in your hangar, attempt to make contact with Ron while making our way to my place in Paleto Bay. Quiet and subtle is the approach.”

“Not my style,” he grumbles, “but alright. Let’s hope we don’t get out to see dumb ol’ Ronald’s rotting corpse. Hey,” he grins mischievously, “since you’re so uptight about taking responsibility, you can clean up the remains.”

She finds it difficult to hide her expression. “Let’s hope Ron is alive then.”

They take a cab to the Los Santos Hangar, paid for in cash. Then, after loading all necessary baggage, they board the chopper, which Trevor recognizes as a model more on the expensive side. “Don’t you think we should be opting for a cargo jet instead of loading all this weight onto a chopper?”

“Yeah, I had one, but I wrecked it. Besides,” Kali grins and winks at him, “she can handle it, don’t worry. Alright, buckle up now.”

As they begin to lift, Trevor turns to Kali and says, “Ya know, can’t remember the last time I was flown somewhere. Usually the group pilot.”

“Well, if your pain meds will allow it, you should stay up to enjoy the view. Leave the flying to me.”

And with that, they’re in the air. Kali regularly checks the radio comms for any warnings or air zone restrictions, especially once they begin to approach Fort Zancudo, but they’re all clear.

For someone who spent two weeks never shutting the hell up, even in his sleep, Trevor is awfully quiet. His head is turned towards the windows, expression eerily unlike his usual scowl. He’s almost…smiling? It makes an unfamiliar sensation churn in her belly and Kali isn’t sure whether she likes it or not.

“Not to sound like a pretentious cocksucker, but this is,” he exhales sharply, “fuckin’ beautiful.”

There he is. “Yeah it is,” she laughs, “appreciating a view isn’t cock sucking, Trevor.”

He turns to face her at that, shrugging in response. “Sure, but you wouldn’t believe the kind of shit that comes outta the plastic pricks’ mouths in L.S. How’re you gonna say you love the earth living in one of the most polluted cities?” He snorts. “Michael was the fakest of them all, I gotta tell ya, the things this oblivious bastard would say from the comfort of his _pool_ —”

Almost as soon as Michael’s name escapes him, Trevor’s quiet again. He’s less relaxed this time, fists clenched as tight as his jaw as he turns away from her, mumbling incoherently under his breath. It’s not the first time this has happened, though. Every single pleasant or fond memory he’s instinctively recalled about Franklin or Michael has ended in the same way. Barely restrained silence and extremely palpable rage.

It doesn’t matter how many times Kali encourages him to continue with what he was saying, he simply refuses and opts to curse them instead, his standard response being, “Well, they tried to fuckin’ _kill_ me, so no holding hands and singing _kumbaya_ with those traitors.”

“It’s not a crime to miss them, to miss _him_ , you know.”

Silence.

“Holding yourself back from recalling these things only hurts you, Trevor. It’s not healthy.”

“You’ve made that _abundantly_ clear, sweetheart,” he grunts, shaking his head, “but I’m content with wanting to stuff their own balls down their throats.”

She’s not sure how much longer Trevor will spend in denial, channeling everything else he feels into his anger and constantly fueling and draining himself, but she knows if he doesn’t break the cycle soon he’s going to self-destruct. Which puts not only her, but everyone in Trevor’s general vicinity in the crossfire between him and his convoluted feelings.

“We’re almost there, ETA’s around five minutes now.”

And for the rest of the five minutes, they fly in strained silence, frustration evident on both ends. For one, Trevor knows (and hates) that Kali is right. It isn’t like he doesn’t appreciate her concern and advice, he knows for sure being doted on is never going to be something he’s against. But it’s hard. Most days he has to force himself to think of something else before he destroys something or commits arson. He’d once thought Michael lying to him about Brad was the worst possible thing he could ever do, and they’d moved past it. Hell, he’d moved past it and forgiven him. Trevor just isn’t sure there’s forgiveness and friendship waiting for Michael and Franklin at the end of this road.

But who the hell else does he have?

However, forgiving them just because he has no one else seems like a cowardly move. Do they even want his forgiveness? There’s a very good chance those two are in a bar at this very moment, drinking it up and celebrating a life without him.

The mere thought makes him dizzy with rage.

“You’re right,” he finally spits out, although Kali doesn’t turn to face him, “I can’t take it anymore. Let’s do it. Fix me.” He spreads his arms, forcing the most genuine smile he can fathom. “All doors open for inspection and improvements, doc.”

Kali is evidently fighting back a smile. “That’s not how this works, Trevor. But I’m glad you’re opening up to the process.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, “the process is for me. I still would love to blow them up. Oooh, or I could tie ‘em both up and beat ‘em like piñatas. Whew,” he whistles, “sounds like a party to me!”

“You can’t heal and still want to hurt them.”

“Rules are for the weak! I _can_ ,” he practically growls, and there’s the feeling in Kali’s belly again, “and will have both.”

She sighs in defeat, choosing to gesture towards their surroundings instead. “We’re here. Hold tight now. Alert and slow, yeah?”

Trevor nods, a familiar sense of calm and peace taking over him as he takes in his surroundings. He can spot, well inside the hangar, his cargo jets and he grins at the memory of how he obtained them. Fuck the Lost pricks, fuck Michael and fuck Franklin. In Sandy Shores, he’s untouchable. He’s a monster. He’s home.

And if he’s not mistaken, the trembling little figure waving furiously outside of the hangar is dear old Ronald, safe and sound, having inconvenienced them for seemingly no good reason at all.

Trevor finds it almost record time wherein he’s already thinking about kicking Ron’s head in.

It’s only when he sees Kali reaching for her .45 again that he snaps out of his thoughts and quickly assures her that the man _still_ waving at them like a lunatic was in fact Ron and was absolutely harmless.

What Kali does not expect is for the man to embrace Trevor in absolute tears, almost knocking the man over as he gushes incoherently. And what Kali definitely doesn’t expect is for Trevor to shove him away, grumbling about how he needs to pull himself together.

“Hey!”

Trevor turns to face her, eyebrow raised when she drops all of their bags at once to huff at him. “Are you serious? That was so fucking rude!” She even smacks him on the arm, earning her both a nervous yelp from Ron who backs away and both eyebrows raised from Trevor, who gapes at her in shock.

“ _Come again_?”

“He thought you were dead, you dick! The least you can do, no matter the nature of your relationship, is to accept the hug and be nice. Say you’re sorry.”

“Say I’m _what_?”

“Say. You’re. Sorry. Right now. Or so help me god, I will fly your ass right back to L.S and dump you on the FIB’s doorstep.” Kali is shorter than Trevor, significantly so, but her stance is firm and dare he admit it, almost intimidating. Her glare is ice cold and he’s so incredibly attracted to her that he straight up wants to laugh, but he knows that won’t be received well. So he gives her exactly what she wants.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” he takes a step forward and embraces the nervous man, “I think it’s really cute that you were worried. I’m okay, you big nerd. I’m okay.” And with one big pat on the back, Trevor steps away and turns to Kali for approval. She frowns at him for a second, but then her expression loosens into a satisfied smile, filling Trevor with an extremely familiar and equally unsettling warmth in his chest. He nods back at her in response, picks up some of the bags and then faces a confused Ron once again.

“So, Ronald, you wanna explain to the pretty lady and I why you delayed this incredibly easy flight by two weeks, and why you’ve been camping out at the hangar? Actually, where have you been pissing and—you know what, don’t answer that.”

“I—I noticed two men had moved into the area quite suddenly,” starts the jittery man as they begin to walk, “and they tried to be subtle but it was obvious they were FIB. They’ve been lurking around your trailer for weeks now, Trevor. I’d only realized about a week into their arrival then. I had to plan my trip here carefully. I couldn’t visit regularly without drawing attention and suspicion and I sure as _hell_ didn’t want to risk making contact with Miss Whitman and blowing it all up. So I made it seem like I was goin’ to L.S to find Wade and clear my head, and I’ve been here ever since, waiting for you two to show up.”

“How do you know this place isn’t being surveilled?”

“I’ve been here for two weeks, Miss Whitman,” comes the polite response, “I’d have noticed FIB agents lurking, if they were. I’ve been running scans daily too, just to be sure. Their main target is his trailer.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t going to be anywhere near it.”

“Wait a second,” Trevor tone is poorly veiled with annoyance, “we aren’t staying at my place?”

Kali blinks at him as though she found him incredibly stupid. “Yes. That was never a part of the plan, Trevor. Why in the hell would you think that’s where we’d stay? _Especially_ now that it’s surrounded by FIB agents?”

“I’m not fuckin’ afraid of Haines’s little lackeys. I can take ‘em. They wanted me dead, you think I’m givin ‘em the satisfaction of running? Absolutely not sweetheart, I’ll take all of ‘em one by one if I have to.”

Like she’d been telling him for weeks now, Kali parrots, “You are in no shape to be engaging in physical combat. The only reason you aren’t in some serious meth withdrawal is because you’re on strong painkillers, which you’ll be coming off of in the coming week. Liz specifically asked me to watch over you because she wants to wait out any consequential symptoms from the head trauma you suffered. It is a long, long road to recovery both physically and mentally, so I’d advise placing the FIB at the bottom of your list of problems. I’ll take care of it.”

“She’s right, Trev.” Ron doesn’t meet Trevor’s hardening gaze as he speaks. “I almost lost you once. I don’t wanna go through that again. Please. _Please_.”

“I’m not saying you’ll never get closure, Trevor. But you’ll end up dead far quicker than you’ll ever get revenge if you go out guns blazing in your current state. Let me help you.” Kali finds herself wanting to reach out for his hand, but she refrains, deciding that wouldn’t be very wise. “I’ve got a nice little place out in Paleto Bay. Great view, quaint and serene, perfect place to recuperate. Ron can stay with us too, if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

His gaze is intense, and Kali can sense the silent question of promise, whether she really means what she said, whether she truly believes he _will_ get his chance to seek closure one day and all she can do is hope her eyes tell him she absolutely does and will do everything she can while she’s around to ensure it happens.

So he says it again.

“Okay. Paleto Bay it is.”

~ ~ ~ ~

  
Michael is lost.

All he knows is he’s drunk, at some beach some place, at an ungodly hour of early dawn in one of his more expensive suits, lying down on the sand with no care whatsoever, hiccuping as he murmurs to himself occasionally. He’s dialed Franklin so many times he’s lost count, and he has no idea how many voicemails he’s left the younger man, but he decides he’ll leave as many as it takes for him to come back.

It’s lonelier without Franklin. Quieter, even. So quiet he swears he hears Trevor sometimes, but at this point he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or his grief driving him insane. He’s relayed this to Franklin in almost every voicemail he’s sent, just to be sure it’ll really hammer it home how bad he’s doing. Michael doesn’t give a single fuck that he’s being selfish, that he isn’t respecting Franklin’s request to refrain from contacting him until he’s ready. He needs him. He doesn’t care how Frank is grieving, all he knows is that he can’t and _won’t_ do it alone anymore.

So he calls him again, fighting back a sob as the voicemail tone clicks and he says, “We shouldn’t have fuckin’ done it, Frank! We shouldn’t have done that to him. He, he never—he wouldn’t have ever done that to us! Trevor’s never been about lies and betrayal and now he’s _dead_. And it’s my fault. It’s our fault. Why,” he coughs and it burns so bad, “why the hell did we choose Steve fuckin’ Haines over Trevor Philips? We coulda taken ‘em all, Frank. We—we coulda. Please come home. Please. I miss him, okay! I miss that psychotic motherfucker! Come home Franklin. I don’t wanna be alone.”

It’s fairly cruel of Franklin to ignore the calls but listen to the voicemails and he’s well aware of it. He just doesn’t know what to say to Michael, really. Would the ambiguity and lack of confirmation help his grief at all? Would it instill him a crippling paranoia and drive him mad? All Franklin knows is that for him personally, not knowing for sure was helping tremendously, even though he knows there’s no way in hell Trevor would ever forgive them, had he survived. He was one loyal son of a bitch, but the man could also hold one hell of a grudge when crossed.

Deep down he knows Michael would also choose Trevor hating them forever if it meant he’d survived, but Michael can’t know. Franklin doesn’t have much to lose, he could run for months, live abroad for years knowing the only person Trevor could hurt was him directly. Michael has a family, even though wildly dysfunctional and miraculously reunited, there’s so much to lose for the older man. Trevor had always looked after Tracey as his own, but wouldn’t he consider her life fair game now that her father had tried to wipe him out?

If he’s even _alive_ , that is.

“I need another hit, shit,” Frank murmurs, pausing briefly to chuckle darkly at Michael’s incoherent rambling, “you know what Mike, so do you.”

It’s truly unfortunate that Michael drifts off at that very moment, because Franklin dials back in the spur of the moment, not hesitating when the voicemail tone beeps. “Hey Mike, I’m sorry I’ve been so outta reach. Sounds like you really going through it, dog. We, uhh, we should meet y’know? Talk this out. Paleto Bay sound a’ight to you?”


	6. Glass house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii
> 
> i am SO sorry for my unannounced hiatus! i had a lot more time during quarantine and lockdown, but now that uni is back open and the workload is piling up, i've been struggling to not only find the time to write, but the inspiration as well. i promise i intend to finish this story! 
> 
> i hope you guys haven't given up on it cause updates won't be as slow anymore <3 
> 
> enjoy!!

Kali would never admit this to Trevor of course, but she really hates this house. Despises it with her very being and everything it represents. She doesn’t want to plant the idea that he could talk her out of staying here in his head.

So she settles for a permanently skittish Ron, whose interest is immediately piqued. She reckons Trevor doesn’t talk to him much—bark orders, sure, but never holds sustainable conversation, so the man will take anything he can get.

“It’s good property, y’know,” Ron tilts his head, “and Trevor set you a good price, didn’t he?”

Oh yeah. The seemingly shady seller she’d bought it from, who also seemed to despise the house? None other than Trevor Philips.

“Why did Trevor of all people own it?”

“He’s,” Ron chuckles, “he’s just Trev. Impulsive, dunno. Seemed real excited when he brought the deed to me. Coupla weeks later, wants me to rip it up, sell it, burn the house, says he doesn’t care. Never told me what changed his mind.”

“Huh,” Kali nods, “strange man.”

“Never a dull day with him though!”

Kali isn’t sure if Ron means that, but she sure as hell wouldn’t consider any ‘adventures’ with Trevor the kind to brighten up a dull day. A violent altercation with The Lost, for one? She wouldn’t dare.

“What’re you two love birds yappin’ about on this fine morning, hm?”

Ron pales at the phrasing and refuses to meet Trevor’s eyes, choosing to sip his coffee with trembling hands instead. Kali, however, ever impatient with the older man’s tendency to be snarky unprovoked, meets his piercing gaze with no hesitation and says, “What are you, jealous?”

He seems almost impressed.

“Just seem _real_ ,” he pauses as he approaches, “comfortable. Is all.”

“We—we were just talkin’ about the house, Trev, nothing serious.” Ron attempts to appease, sensing growing tension on Trevor’s end. “You never told me why you wanted it sold, y’know?”

“You can rest well assured that it was perfectly valid, Jakowski. Now scram. Get your nerd on, the adults gotta talk.”

Kali hates how quickly Ron slips out of his seat, practically leaping to his bedroom and slamming the door shut. “You know, you could be nicer to him.”

He scoffs, scrunching his face in disgust as he sips Ron’s abandoned coffee. “Could be a lot more things, darlin’. Why’re you so on my ass about Ron’s rights anyway? Find him cute? He your type?”

There it is again, the snark.

“Firstly, regardless of whether he’s my type or not, I think you could be nicer to him. Just really take a second to consider how much you mean to him _despite_ your tendency to act like an asshole, would ya? Secondly, I don’t appreciate you bitching so much. We can either sit here and have a productive conversation about what’s bothering you, or we can sit in silence until one of us is done with breakfast. Additionally, I can leave.”

“No, no,” comes the quick response, “I’m uh, I’m just cooped up.”

Kali doesn’t really believe him, but it’s something, so she nods slowly. “Right, and what do you think could help with that?”

She quickly catches the glimmer in his eyes and adds, “No violence!”

He droops his shoulders in defeat as he grumbles, “I don’t know, then, maybe a boring walk on the beach.”

“Alright that’s doable, but I think it’d be safer at night. Is that okay with you?”

Trevor nods, then leans forward. “It’d be ideal if it was just us. We can keep Ron leashed here with some treats, some dumb game on your phone and he’ll be good for three hours tops.”

She rolls her eyes. “You have seriously got to treat him better. And speak of him better. But yes, it can be just us. No funny business though. This relationship is entirely professional.”

Kali isn’t sure why she said that, and she’s even more unsure of why there’s a voice in her head that’s screeching in protest. God did she need to rinse her brain of Alissa. Too bad Alissa was her only real friend.

And what definitely doesn’t help is Trevor’s smug smirk as he raises his hands defensively and says, “Hey, darlin’, I’m not that kinda guy. You want me, you make your move. You know where I stand on it.”

“That’s…good to know.” She sips on her coffee, scrambling to change the subject. Finally, she lands on something.

“Why _did_ you sell this house by the way?”

She watches carefully as the older man freezes, going slightly pale in the face as his eyes drift away from her, almost as though he was being flooded with memories. He clears his throat and speaks softly as he says, “Y’know, bought it for a reason, the reason left me.”

As careful as she tries to be about physical comfort with Trevor, Kali finds herself slipping up a lot. Here being one, as she places her hands atop his, allowing herself just a fraction of a second to note how warm they are, how rough the callouses feel and just a moment to internally coo at how much smaller her hands were in comparison.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, tilting her head as she notes his discomfort, “that must have been painful. It’s understandable why you didn’t want to keep the house. Besides if it helps I—”

_Ah yes, so much for keeping the secret intact._

“You what?” Trevor questions, raising an eyebrow at her cutting off abruptly. She’s not sure how to salvage the situation, so she says the first thing she can think of, which unfortunately happens to be, “I took care of the house, haha. Kept it in good shape, you know?”

His eyebrow stays raised as he shoots her a wry smile. “Ah, well, it is yours now. Coulda burned it down for all I care. The idea in selling it was to let go of whatever fucked up hope it represented, ya know?”

“It’s still a beautiful house with a breathtaking view. No matter what our sentiments are, would be a waste of property.”

“I guess so, Whitman, I guess so.”

“You know, on that note,” Kali straightens in her seat, removing her hands from Trevor’s gentle hold and folding her arms across her chest, “why do you only ever call me ‘darlin’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Whitman’, but never Kali?”

He shrugs. “Ain’t nothing deep to it, really. What’s up with all your touchiness, though? You this nice to all your clients?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll admit working odd jobs alone as an affectionate person is tough, and a little lonely. Besides,” she grins teasingly at the older man, “I don’t really hear you complaining.”

“ _Please,_ ” his tone is dangerously sultry, “lay it all on me, darlin’. No complaints here.”

They stare down holds so much sexual tension that they don’t even hear Ron for a couple of seconds. They also don’t realize he can sense it and it’s making him a little sick. Trevor had a really unstable success rate with women generally. He would either strike out terribly or be so successful Ron would find himself being kept awake all night by the sounds of their disgustingly psychosexual sex.

He’s not sure what Kali’s going to be, and he sincerely hopes he’s not home when it happens.

He clears his throat again, earning Kali’s attention first as she turns to face him, expression slightly flustered. “Sorry, Ron, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Ron knows Trevor’s going to threaten to beat his head in for cockblocking, so he avoids the man’s burning glare altogether, nervously squeaking, “We’ve got more agents around Trevor’s trailer. Some of them have already been around mine. It’s only a matter of time before they come around the hangar and find your chopper.”

“Right, that’s easy, I’ll fly it back out to L.S, drive back here. I can do that first thing tomorrow morning. But we do need a solid plan on how we’re going to convince the FIB you’re dead and not a threat anymore.”

“Can’t go back to report to that little weasel Haines if they’re dead.”

“Dead FIB agents is the _last_ thing that’s going to convince them you’re dead, Trevor.” Kali sighs exasperatedly, unsure of why Trevor can’t understand that violence isn’t an option. “Like I said, we need to lay low, draw as little attention to us as possible. Okay, tell you what,” she shifts her gaze between the two men, “after I drop the chopper back in L.S, I’ll drop around the trailer, do some recon, gauge the threat level and report back. We’ll figure it out from there. That okay with you two?”

Ron nods, but Trevor stands, raising his arms above his head to stretch as he says, “Yep, fine by me, I’d love to see what those knuckleheads are doing sniffin’ around my humble abode.”

“You can’t come.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“You aren’t coming. You can stay here with Ron while I’m out for the next couple of days. I’m not leaving you out on purpose. It’s just too much of a risk to take you with me. I’m sorry.”

Kali should’ve known Trevor doesn’t fold easy. She should’ve listened to her gut telling her something was up with the slippery bastard when he agreed, and sauntered back into his room. She should’ve guessed from Ron’s rapidly changing expression that Trevor had no plans of keeping put.

But she made the mistake of underestimating him again anyway.


	7. Trevor, predictably, does not listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive. I still very much intend to finish this story <33 
> 
> Lots of dialogue in this one for the first bit at least! You get to see a little bit of bonding before, of course, Trevor does something really stupid lmaooo
> 
> Enjoy! <33

The chaos that ensues over the next couple of days begins with a calm night out at the beach. Kali should have known it was almost _too_ calm for Trevor, but in that moment she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a peaceful night away from all her responsibilities, so she chose to remain blissfully ignorant to her unsettled gut.

They’d driven out in Kali’s sedan, which she thinks is _way_ better than the way they’d gotten to her house to begin with—all cramped up on two ATV’s, painfully hauling their luggage along with them.

Trevor looks confused when she parks horizontally and a little into the beach instead of allotted parking. “Shields us from view, firstly,” and to his growing smirk she sternly adds, “ _and_ gives us an advantage should someone come around to see us and recognize you. Stop looking at me like that, you perv.”

He chuckles and ruffles her hair as he turns to exit the car. “I’m just messin’ with ya, Whitman.”

They lay down the tie-dye sheet first, finding themselves grateful for low winds that night as they bring out the food they’d packed. Kali raises an eyebrow when Trevor lugs out a six pack and sets it onto the sheet. “Need something to wash all this food down, hey?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m driving back, I can’t drink.”

“Oh, c’mon darlin’, loosen up. It’s my one night out for I don’t fuckin’ know how long. I think I deserve to go all out. I see you have a tent packed in your trunk too.”

“No can do Trev,” she shrugs, “I bought that for a worst case scenario where I’d have to ditch the car and camp out somewhere with no real amenities.”

“Real prepared for anything, huh? Tell you what, we camp it out for the night and I’ll owe you a big one.” Kali scoffs. “What could you possibly have to offer that I couldn’t already get myself?”

“Dunno yet, but I’m a powerful man. Can get some real nasty work done, no questions asked, no problemo. I would even go as far as to say I’m a powerful ally, sweetheart. Cash it in anytime.”

She considers this for a moment. She can’t really think of anything in her line of work that would warrant cashing in this favour, there’s nothing she would take on that she couldn’t do herself. However, she could use it to get him to be tamer, more obedient. And hey, camping out wasn’t such a bad idea, given they weren’t too far from the beach house and had some time to kill anyway. Additionally, if she gave him this, she could keep him in the stupid house for longer periods of time without him itching to go out and cause trouble.

In that moment, the pros outweighed the cons, so Kali nods with a sigh, following a grinning Trevor to the trunk as he lifts the bag out and steps away to allow Kali to pick up some other things, like blankets, pillows and a torch in case it got really dark.

They set up camp with no real trouble and face no interference, considering Kali had deliberately chosen a more secluded area of the beach that visitors didn’t really frequent to. And against her better judgement, Kali clinks her bottle with Trevor’s, murmuring cheers before taking a long gulp. 

“So,” Trevor starts, leaning back on his arms as he speaks, “how’d you get into this whole business anyway?”

“Like I said, I had an abrupt exit from the Air Force. I tried your standard nine to fives in jobs that were as exciting as they could get, private investigation, cyber crimes, repos, whatever had some element of risk to it really. P.I was mostly catching cheating spouses, so that got boring really quick. Cyber crime just wasn’t a fit, really. With repos, I could’ve settled but my boss was kind of a dick, so I decided to expand and work on my own.”

He raises his bottle and says, “Don’t gotta tell me about dick bosses. Wanted to beat the shit outta the ones I worked for, let me tell ya. Working on your own means no rules. It’s where you really thrive.”

“For sure. I’ve made thrice the amount in _months_ than I made working those other jobs. It’s entirely on my terms and while I’ve made some enemies, I’ve made some really powerful friends too. Got a lot of favours to cash in, so I sleep at night with no real fear.”

“I’ll drink to that, darlin’.”

“Enough about me, how did you get into all of this? I mean, the Union Depository? That’s fucking insane!”

“Frankie really told you the entire story, huh?”

Kali shakes her head as she gulps down more of her beer. “I mean, yeah, but it was all over the news. Entire country was looking for you all, and here you are, free men just a couple of months later.”

“Wasn’t our first rodeo, sweetheart. Like you, I had an _abrupt_ exit from the Air Force. Entirely against my will, of course. Some stupid fucking _psychologist_ decides you’re unfit for active duty and that’s it, all your hopes and dreams just _poof_! Gone. So you could say that was my origin story for the life of crime I live now.”

“If you remove all your vices, it’s not a bad life, Trevor.”

He scoffs. “There’s not much else for me to do, gotta get this all over with somehow. Besides,” he turns to smile wryly at Kali, “I look like the type to wanna live a long life to you?”

Kali mulls it over for a second, then shrugs. “Fair enough. Gotta quit the crystal if you wanna live long enough to get your closure, though. You won’t have much time left if you keep at that.”

Silence.

“Why _did_ you save me? I’m sure Franklin didn’t specify the details. You coulda just left me for dead.”

“Okay yeah,” Kali begins softly, sensing genuine vulnerability in Trevor’s tone, “it wasn’t in the job description. But I couldn’t really leave you there, it was an impulse decision. And even though you’re an absolute pain in the ass, I don’t regret it.”

“But why, Whitman?”

“Was that how you wanted to go out? Hm? I’m not particularly keen on living a long and healthy life either, but if I went out, I’d want it to be cool, ya know? I’d hate to have died out of betrayal.”

“So you saved me because of projection?”

“A bit of that, and a bit of knowing you deserved better, really.”

And Trevor feels it again, this insane, ridiculous urge to proclaim his love for the woman beside him, to lean forward and kiss her until they both run out of breath, to promise her he’d never let anyone hurt her and that he was beyond touched that she thought he was worth saving.

But he immediately shoves those thoughts away, telling himself he had a primary objective and that he really needed to stop immediately falling in love with every woman who was remotely nice to him.

 _Michael would say it’s basic human decency_ , he thinks to himself before angrily adding, _but now Michael is as good as dead to me anyway._

It extends beyond human decency, though. Trevor finds it’s just how different she is from everyone else, how she’s so tightly wound yet so accepting of him and the way he works. Patricia had reminded him a lot of his own mother, and sure, there’s some weird psychosexual shit there, but Kali was entirely unlike everything he had ever wanted in a woman.

And that makes her so incredibly attractive and enticing that he’s losing his goddamn mind.

They spend the rest of the night drinking and talking about anything and everything, really. Trevor finds it easier to talk about Franklin and Michael when he’s drunk, especially the endearing stuff. It’s strangely harder to find his anger in that moment, it’s almost harder to fight back the pain and sadness he feels as he relays these memories to an attentive but slightly tipsy Kali.

It’s disorienting, because he’s used to making that straight path to anger, to pure and unadulterated _rage_ , but right now he’s fighting back tears as he tells her about the time he’d found out Michael was still alive and they’d immediately rushed out to save Tracey from utter humiliation a few minutes after he’d broken into the lying little weasel’s house.

“Those lying little shits,” he finishes, downing the last remnants of beer from his third bottle, “they were all I had, and they cast me away like I was nothing. Like I meant nothing to ‘em.”

Kali likes to think she wouldn’t really do this sober, but she leans forward and gently holds Trevor’s face in her hands, hiccuping as she speaks. “Listen t-to me Philips, they don’t fucking deserve you, alright? They’re, they’re so fucking stupid and god are they beyond selfish. You gotta realize that you gave them everything, and they were too greedy to appreciate it. They don’t deserve you.”

 _God_ , he groans internally, _you look so kissable right now_.

“I’m actually kind of a piece of shit, but I appreciate the sentiment, Whitman. You shoulda mentioned you’re a crippling lightweight, I mean three beers and you’re down? What if I was some kinda sick bastard? This is really bad for you, darlin’.”

She frowns and waggles a finger in his face, retreating slightly. “I can defend myself just fine, thank you.” She hiccups, and Trevor is internally groaning again at how absolutely adorable she looks. “Am armed to the _teeth_! You hear that? Teeth!”

“Alright, alright, I don’t doubt that. Whaddya say we shut this little party down and get some rest? You’ve got an early morning flight ahead of ya and that hangover’s gonna be a real bitch to deal with.”

“Hmm, that’s a good idea. Can you, can you put the bottles out? I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Trevor nods, and unzips the entrance of the tent a little more to gently place the empty six pack outside and a little to the right, zipping it back up entirely when he retreats back inside.

“I can sleep in the car if you want.”

“No,” Kali says, settling down and turning away from him, “I trust you.”

And it both warms his heart and breaks it to hear that, because Trevor’s sure his following actions were _definitely_ going to damage the relationship they’d built so far.

~ ~ ~ ~

When she wakes up, her head is pounding and the sound of blades slicing through wind definitely wasn’t helping. Kali awakens groggily, groaning as she’s nearly blinded by sunlight, overwhelmed by the noise and light as she tries to make sense of her surroundings.

“Morning, sunshine! Just in time, we’re gonna be landing in L.S very soon.”

She turns her head slowly to look at a grinning Trevor, who shoots her a thumbs up and wide, shit-eating grin that unsettles her gut deeply before she realizes what’s wrong with this entire situation.

Kali wants to yell at him desperately, but the motion sickness combined with the killer hangover wasn’t helping her case, so she settles with stumbling through the words, “you fucking asshole! You…aren’t supposed to be…flying!”

“I feel just fine, sweet pea. You don’t look so great. Who woulda guessed your greatest weakness to be your tolerance?”

She’s angry. Really, really angry at herself primarily for having let her guard down so easily and at Trevor for having taken advantage of her like that. Hurt, because she believed he was actually beginning to respect and understand her, and annoyance, finally, because she desperately needs to get ahold of herself and the queasiness she feels would be fatal if they run into trouble at Los Santos.

Choosing to ignore Trevor’s response, she adds as icily as she can, “You’re risking both of our lives…right now. I can’t…believe yo—okay I’m gonna throw up.”

Trevor’s smile dulls slightly, but he quips cheerily still, “The world is your basin, Whitman! Turn a little to your right and hurl away!”

Forcing herself to breathe and swallow back the bile rising to her throat was a challenge, but she manages, reminding herself of the rapidly escalating situation slipping out of control and the crazy man she needs to protect from whatever harm he’s flying them into.

“What’s the plan, huh? Land in L.S, then what? Storm Franklin’s house? Burn Michael’s mansion down? What’s the fuckin’ game plan here, Trevor?”

He doesn’t respond to this, gesturing to the hangar appearing within view as he shrugs, beginning descent as he nears the helipad. Allowing herself a few seconds after he sticks the landing, Kali stumbles out of her chopper, dry heaving as her vision goes blurry, stumbling to find some form of support.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’ it was just a coupla beers,” Trevor chuckles, snaking an arm around her waist and then behind her knees as he lifts her up, walks into the cool, dim hangar and sets her down gently at a corner, “you got some water around here? You know what, save your breath I’ll take a look around.”

The floor feels deliciously cool against her warm skin as Kali falls flat onto the ground, wondering why she hadn’t listened to her gut and chained Trevor up in his room. She has so many questions too. Does Ron know about all of this? Is he okay or even alive still? What had Trevor done with her car? Her emergency kit, her clothes?

She groans as she feels the rage again, turning to her side as she shouts, “Trevor! I’m going to kill you!”

There’s no response for a few seconds and Kali fears he’s left her here alone to fend for herself, but soon enough, she hears footsteps and then he’s kneeling before her, bottle of water in hand as his expression softens.

“I wanna apologize right now, sweetheart,” he begins gently, handing her the bottle and tucking stray stands of her hair behind her ear, “but honestly it’s about to get worse, so I’m going to hold off on that.”

“Why?”

“Your plan’s too slow. I’m impatient. ‘Sides, whatever I got planned you’ll be kept far away from, so don’t you worry.” He taps her nose and she swats his hand away, glaring at him as she forces herself upright and chugs the water, sighing as the cool water relieves the dryness in her throat. All she needs is a couple of hours to rest and recuperate.

It’s impossible though, because in just under an hour Trevor could burn the whole of Los Santos down and she’d be too weak to stop him. Clearly he’s not going to be persuaded by guilt tripping. She needs to be by his side, no matter what he’s got cooked up in his stupid head.

“If I can’t stop you,” she begins slowly, “then I want in. Whatever it is you’re about to do, it’d be better with backup. Just, please,” she gives him a hard stare, “let me rest. Two hours tops.”

She can see the gears turning as he mulls it over, never breaking eye contact as he tilts his head slightly. _Please,_ she thinks, _take the bait. Take the bait._

“How do I know you aren’t just playin’ those pretty eyes to your advantage, huh? Sorry Whitman, can’t trust ya. Tell you what,” he begins to lift her to her feet, fingers briefly brushing the bare skin of her waist as he reaches into her left pocket for her phone, “you can rest for as long as you want. Promise I’ll be home for dinner and everything. Whaddya like, pizza? Chinese?”

Whatever happens, Kali knows she absolutely cannot be left out. “I’m already too late to stop you,” she begins, hating how blatant the desperation was in her tone, “you might as well bring me along!”

“Would be a _real_ cute Bonnie and Clyde situation, but no can do sweetheart. There,” he slips her phone back into her pocket, “cab’ll be here in a jiffy.” He leans closer to her side, lips just about brushing the tip of her ear as he coos, “Trust me, daddy knows best.”

In a moment of weakness, Kali briefly softens, leaning into him before she realizes he’s _still_ playing the long game. Furious, she shoves herself away from his hold, shaking her head at him as she begins to yell. “Stop that! All of this is really stupid! I can’t _believe_ you’d take advantage of me like that and fly _my_ fuckin’ chopper out when I distinctly told you it’d be an incredibly bad idea for you to tag along! I’m tired, sick and beyond pissed and my god do I wanna throttle you right now—”

“Wow, look at that,” Trevor leans forward and slaps a hand over her mouth, managing to wrestle her into the awaiting vehicle fairly easily despite her attempting to fight him while cursing him out, “exceptional L.S service! Tell him your address, the ride’s on me. Don’t come lookin’ for me now!”

And with that, Kali flails limply at the cab window, watching with a growing sense of defeat as Trevor shrinks in the distance, the bastard having the audacity to wave at her as she’s driven away.

She couldn’t handle this alone. Los Santos is a big city and she doesn’t even know what Trevor is planning. After letting the driver know where to drop her off, Kali pulls out her phone and dials the one person she could trust to help.

“Hello babydoll,” Alissa chuckles, “got some hot goss for me?”

“Liz,” Kali speaks softly, “I need your help.”

“Wait, K, what’s wrong? Did he hurt you? I swear to god I’m going to set that man alight myself when I find—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she interrupts, tone frantic, “I’ll explain when you get here. How quick can you get to L.S?”

There’s a beat where she doesn’t respond and Kali begins to panic, fearing she’ll have to handle this on her own, but then Alissa’s speaking, tone grim, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, sweets. Hang tight, I gotcha.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! <3
> 
> [Tumblr if u wanna shout](https://aesjjk.tumblr.com/)


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